


Adore (Amy Shark)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [35]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Boys Kissing, Frottage, Jock Dean, M/M, Mild Smut, Nerd Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 17:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13439679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: When Gabriel forces Castiel to go to his first high school party, meeting the love of his life wasn't in the plans.





	Adore (Amy Shark)

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you're thinking...Ugh! Another HS AU?!!!
> 
> But, honestly, this one is much darker. Or, at least it will be.
> 
> Just a note on this song, I know it's fairly new, but this story kind of leaped into my brain, fully formed, the first time I heard it and I knew it had to go in the playlist.

Adore (Amy Shark)

            “This is utterly ridiculous,” Castiel sighed.  “Gabriel, I don’t even want to _go_ and now you’re making me wear something of _Luke’s_ , for fuck’s sake!”

 

            “Cassie! Language, young man,” Gabriel tsked at his youngest brother.  “The reason you’ve managed to go three years without _ever_ getting invited to a _single_ party is A: your wardrobe.  Who wears _waistcoats_ in high school? B: you won’t pull your nose out of a book long enough to carry on a conversation with another human being, much less ever _flirt_ with one.  And three: you haven’t had me around to guide you through the shark tank of high school.”

 

            “C, not three,” Castiel grumbled.  He crossed his arms over the faded black band t shirt and black leather collarless jacket Gabriel had dug out of the back of his and Luke’s closet in their old room.  He did his best to glare down at his older brother, “Maybe I’m asexual, you ever think of that?”

 

            “You’re antisocial, not asexual.  I know this because you talk in your sleep.  A lot. And moan…and gasp…and call out ‘Oh, Alfie!”

 

            “STOP! Okay.  How did you even hear about this party anyway?  You’re gonna be at least a decade older than anyone there!”

 

“I have my sources,” Gabriel hedged.  Castiel started to run his fingers through his thick black hair, but all the goop Gabriel had slathered in there had dried to a hard gloss and caught on his fingertips.  He dropped his hand in frustration. 

 

“Fine.  I’ll go,” Gabriel hopped up and down, clapping like an idiot, “BUT, on _one_ condition and this is non-negotiable, Gabriel!  You never bug me about this _ever_ again.  Not one single word about socializing with my peers, not a mention of tonight.”

 

            “Done and done, let’s go!”

 

            Riding shotgun with Gabriel driving was always an adventure, but he seemed a little more behaved on the drive to the party, maybe sensing Castiel was hanging on by his last nerve.  He had never understood people his age, preferring to be friends with his teachers and other adults, instead.  His job in a local nursing home was the ideal environment for him, wall-to-wall elderly with thousands of interesting stories to tell and not another teenager in sight.  The only other person his age he could stomach for any amount of time was his friend Charlie and that was only because they had grown up next door to each other in a neighborhood with no other children their age.  Castiel took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as Gabriel found a parking spot almost half a block away from the house where the party was being held.  Some senior girl Castiel had never heard of, whose parents were out of town.

 

            Impossibly, the inside of the house was even more chaotic than the front yard, where Castiel and Gabriel had walked past no less than three people either puking in the bushes or passed out in the grass, a toilet seat on the sidewalk, and countless scraps of paper, empty Solo cups, various other garbage.  Inside was much the same, with the added press of what might be the entire senior class, most of the local college kids, and the thudding bass of dance music blasting through the floor boards.  Gabriel led him as far as the kitchen before someone he knew pulled him away, leaving Castiel trying to meld into the bland wallpaper of the breakfast nook.  Roughly ten minutes passed before Castiel was shoved out of his hiding spot by a couple intent on melding with each other.  Stumbling around the corner, Castiel fell into someone’s back, pushing them into a small crowd and spilling beer everywhere.

 

            “Oh, shit! I’m so sor-“ Castiel stuttered, until the most gorgeous man he’d ever laid eyes on turned around and locked eyes with him.  And oh, what eyes they were!  Castiel’s breath was stolen from him and he instantly started composing sonnets to those eyes.  His own eyes were wide and unblinking as he tried desperately to commit the face to memory before his brain shut down, all the blood in his body inevitably redirecting to his dick.

 

            The man smiled and laughed at him, “Dude! You okay?”  Castiel thought he might have nodded but, who knows?  The guy yelled over his shoulder without breaking eye contact, “Anna, your dad got a shirt I can borrow?”  He must have otten an answer because he brushed past Castiel, making him step back against the wall of the kitchen, knocking over a hanging basket of onions.  The guy stopped to apologize and when he did, someone heading in the opposite direction tripped over his back foot, practically flinging a cup of beer at Castiel.  Of course, the cup hit Castiel dead in his face and he gasped as the cold brew trickled down the front of Luke’s shirt.  A chorus of ‘oh shit’s and laughter rose up.  “Come on, man, before one of us gets killed,” the guy shouted as he grabbed Castiel’s hand, pulling him through the swarm of sweaty teenagers in the hall and past the lip-locked couples on the stairs.

 

            The guy didn’t let go of his hand until they had gotten to a set of double doors at the end of the upstairs hallway.  The three closed doors they passed to get there had been broadcasting the barely-muffled sounds of sex.  Castiel was expecting to find at least one couple on the king-sized bed inside the big room, but the coast was clear.  The guy finally dropped his hand and walked over to the bed, stripping his Letter jacket off as he went, “What’s your name, man? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

 

            “Why is no one using this room to fornicate?” Castiel blurted out.

 

            “Um, okay, that’s kind of a long name,” the guy smiled and pulled his wet shirt up over his head by crossing his arms and sweeping it off in one smooth gesture.  Castiel’s mouth started watering at the sight of miles of tanned and toned flesh.  “Everyone knows not to come in here.  Anna’s parents are pretty cool, but they’d never let her have another party if their room got trashed.” The guy turned and walked into the attached bathroom, flicking on the light before calling out, “Seriously, though, what’s your name?”

 

            Castiel takes a moment to gather his thoughts while the other boy is out of sight, looking down at his ruined clothes and taking several deep breaths.  The guy walked back in the room with a towel in his hand and proceeded to rub the wet end across his chest, looking at Castiel expectantly.  “Ca-Castiel.”  The guy looked confused, then made a go-on gesture.  “Um, Novak?  I’m a junior.  At LHS?”

 

            A mega-watt smile broke out on the guy’s face and Castiel barely caught himself from hitting the plush carpet when his knees tried to give out from under him, “You sure about that, Ca-Castile?”

 

            “Cas-tee-el,” Castiel corrected him automatically.  If anyone had ever pronounced his name properly the first time, he’d probably have a heart attack and die from the shock.  Castiel cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice level as the guy sauntered over to a tall chest of drawers and began opening and closing them, rifling through each one, “What’s yours?”

 

            “Dean,” the guy-no, Dean, answered, pulling a plain white t-shirt over his head as he walked over to Castiel.  Dean stood in front of Castiel, hands on his slim hips, and just kept smiling.  Castiel tipped his head in confusion as to what came next.

 

            “You gonna strip or do you need help?” Dean plucked at the open zipper of Luke’s leather jacket.

 

            “Oh! Um, yes,” Castiel slipped out of the jacket and started tugging the t shirt up, but the wet cotton was constricting and got caught on his elbows as he tried to replicate Dean’s method of taking off a shirt.

 

            “Here…wait…stop wiggling! Let me help,” Dean chuckled.  Castiel stopped struggling and let Dean pull the shirt up his arms and over his head.  Castiel stood there, face flaming, and let the other man check him out.  He felt caught in Dean’s gaze, like a fly in a web.  But, it only seemed fair after he’d had a chance to ogle a shirtless Dean.  Dean slapped the now-cold towel to Castiel’s chest, “Here. Don’t want to go home smelling like a brewery.”  Dean remained exactly where he was, eyes raking over Castiel as he cleaned up.  Dean reached up to lightly pat Castiel’s spikey hair.  He laughed when it sprang right back into its artfully disheveled formation.  “What you got in here? Armor-All?”

 

            Castiel felt a little bite of anger claw its way up his throat, “My brother did this!” he spat out, “These aren’t even my clothes.  They belonged to our other brother.”  Dean took the towel from Castiel and wiped him down with the dry side, fingers straying from the surface of the clothe to trail sparks across Castiel’s chest.

 

            “Hmm,” he hummed, “Hope you don’t get in trouble with your other brother for fucking up a pretty sweet Who shirt.” Dean finally halted his ministrations, and looked up into Castiel’s eyes.  “Ya know, you’re pretty hot for a junior, Cas-tee-el.  How come I’ve never seen you at school?” Dean flipped the towel over one shoulder and laid a warm hand on Castiel’s elbow, pulling him slowly back toward the bed.

 

            “It’s a big school,” Castiel answered, totally mesmerized.  The way Dean moved, like a big cat, all silky, efficient movements, so self-assured, it pulled at Castiel like a magnet.  He didn’t feel entirely in control of what was coming out of his mouth, either.  “You’re breathtaking,” he said quietly.  Dean sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Castiel down to sit next to him.  His face broke into another of those brilliant smiles that lit up his eyes and gave a hint of the pattern of wrinkles he would one day develop, making his already-devastating good looks completely unfair.  His hand moved from Castiel’s elbow to brush up to his shoulder.  He squeezed the muscle there lightly, running his hand down Castiel’s chest to trace a nail down his obliques before resting his hand on the top of Castiel’s thigh.  Every spot Dean had touched tingled, the tactile equivalent of the after-image from watching fireworks.

 

            “Built, too.  You on the swim team?” Castiel shook his head. “Track?” No. “Hmm,” Dean moved his hand up to the crease of Castiel’s hip, his thumb millimeters from Castiel’s hardening dick.  “I wrestle.  You ever wrestle, Cas?”  Castiel’s mouth fell open when he couldn’t slow his breathing down and he panted a breathy ‘no’.  “You want me to show you?”  Castiel nodded dumbly.  “How bout a kiss, first?” Dean smiled.  Castiel leant forward, hoping it was enough of an answer, his eyes locked on Dean’s perfectly shaped, pink lips.  The older boy licked his bottom lip, whispered “Yeah,” before bringing his mouth to brush softly against Castiel’s.

 

            Dean kept up the almost-not-quite-enough pressure on Castiel’s lips until the younger boy broke, grasping the back of Dean’s neck and slipped his tongue between those razor-straight white teeth, coaxing Dean’s tongue to slide into his own mouth.  Dean cupped his jaw and tilted his head, slotting their mouths together fully.  Castiel had kissed a couple people; tentative, experimental things that had the uncanny ability to end fledgling friendships, but this was not even in the same ballpark.  Dean clearly knew exactly what he was doing, even though Castiel had taken the step to engage tongue, and he quickly dominated the kiss.  Dean’s hands were everywhere, thumbing Castiel’s nipples, rubbing down his sides to squeeze his hip bones, stroking his shifting back muscles.  Dean started using his big hands to encourage Castiel closer, practically pulling the shorter boy into his lap.  Castiel finally got the memo and did just that, straddling Dean’s hips and pushing him back onto the puffy comforter.

 

            “Yeah, Cas…like that…fuck…goddamn…mmm…fuck…so hot…” Dean breathed between kisses which had degraded into nips and licks.  Dean ran a hand up the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him down to mouth at his pulse point, his other hand holding Castiel firmly as he rolled his hips up to brush his denim-clad dick against Castiel’s.  Castiel moaned into Dean’s collar bone, pulling the borrowed shirt down to get to more skin.  He ground down into Dean again and again, a frantic energy overtaking him.  Like a wind sweeping him along, he wanted nothing more than to crawl inside Dean’s skin, get as close as he possibly could, feel his heart beating under his cheek, slip his fingers along the xylophone bumps of his ribs, enter his blood stream and never leave.  “Cas…Cas…hey, wait…” Dean drew back a bit and pulled Castiel’s face up to eye level, “I know something even better.  Wanna see?”  Castiel nodded and Dean pushed him up to sitting on his heels.

 

            Dean popped the button on his jeans, bottom lip held captive in his teeth, and nodded at Castiel’s jeans with his chin.  Castiel fumbled for his button and zipper, finally opening them and easing the unbearable pressure on his cock.  He couldn’t stop watching as Dean undid his own pants, pulling his hard dick through the slit in his boxers.  Dean stroked himself lightly and sighed.  He reached out with one finger and traced the growing wet spot on the front of Castiel’s briefs, “Your turn.”  Castiel sat up a little to push his jeans and briefs down more, his dick snapping out and smacking up against his stomach.  Dean’s hand latched onto his hot length and Castiel nearly screamed.  “Come back,” Dean smiled, pulling at Castiel’s shoulder and then the back of his neck, licking into Castiel’s mouth again.  Dean gripped the hair at the back of Castiel’s head after a minute and pulled his head back.  He put his palm flat to Castiel’s mouth, “Lick,” he instructed.  Castiel did, lavishing Dean’s hand with his tongue, slicking it with all the saliva he could.

 

            Dean reached between them, where their dicks were almost touching, “Gimme,” he breathed into Castiel’s mouth, tugging on his hip with his dry hand.  Castiel lowered his hips a bit more and looked down as Dean took both their lengths in his broad hand, spreading Castiel’s spit over both of them.  Castiel groaned deep and low, letting his forehead fall to bump against Dean’s chin.  “Lift your head, I wanna see, too.” Cas opened his eyes and moved his head to the right slightly. “Fuck that’s hot…such a nice dick, Cas…lookit you, leaking all over me…” Cas whimpered, and his hips twitched into Dean’s fist, “Yeah…fuck, yeah…do that…fuck my fist, Cas…so good…so good for me…come on…wanna see it…shit…I’m gonna…are you…faster, Cas…fuck, fuck, _fuck, FUUUUUUCCCKKKK_!!!!” Dean’s dick jerked against Castiel’s and spilled thick come over his knuckles and Castiel shook as his own peak rocketed through him and his vision whited out for a second as the most intense pleasure spiraled up and through him.  Castiel gasped for air, a fish out of water, arms shaking, completely overwhelmed and dragging in the undertow, eyes open as he watched Dean shudder through the aftershocks.  Dean’s head was lying back on the bed, a sweet smile twitching up the corners of his lips.

 

            “Wow, that was good,” Dean breathed out in a whoosh of air.  He lifted his head and squinted up at Castiel, still hovering over him and gawping stupidly.  “Uh, dude? Cas? You alright, buddy?”  When Castiel continued staring wordlessly at him, Dean tapped his hip with his wrist, “Okay, then. Off.  Gotta get cleaned up.”  Castiel slid to the side, letting Dean toss his leg the rest of the way over so he could sit up.  Dean threw him a puzzled glance and bent to pick up the towel they’d used to clean up the spilt beer.  “You’re, uh, you’re not having, like, some kinda gay freak-out or something, are you?”  If Castiel wasn’t mistaken, there was a not-small amount of fear laced through Dean’s voice.  Castiel shook his head and reached out to brush his fingers along Dean’s forearm, trying to convey what he was feeling with his eyes, since he couldn’t seem to find the words just yet.  Dean watched him wearily, but didn’t pull away from the touch, looking up at Castiel from under his brow.  Dean swallowed audibly and looked away from Castiel’s intense staring, a flush of embarrassment coloring the back of his neck.  All his smooth self-confidence from earlier seemed to have vanished.  The older boy hopped down from the bed, hastily doing up his pants and grabbing his jacket off the bed.  Castiel caught a glimpse of the name on the back as Dean slipped it on and turned back to him, eyes trained on the carpet.  “You got a ride home?”

 

            Castiel nodded but Dean wasn’t looking at him, so he forced out a croaked ‘Yeah’.  Dean nodded and turned back to the door, muttering what sounded like ‘See ya at school’ before the rush of noise from downstairs flooded the room as he opened the door.  The slight click of the door shutting behind him snapped Castiel out of his trance and he shook his head.  “Wait, Dean,” he called, frantically pulling his pants up and grabbing his jacket and throwing it on as he left the room.  He ran down the stairs, dodging bodies and indignant shouts when he couldn’t, but Dean was gone.  Castiel searched the rest of the downstairs, battling to see over the heads of the kids milling around or grinding against each other or fighting and shoving one another.  He popped out the back door, finding Gabriel on the back porch, doing a keg stand to the raucous cheers of a small crowd.

 

            Castiel drove them home after reassuring Gabriel nothing bad had happened (Cassie, where’s your shirt?) and guided his drunk brother down the hall to his old room, dumping him on the bed and depositing a bottle of water and two painkillers on his nightstand.  Castiel dragged himself to his own room and stripped down to his briefs before collapsing in bed.

 

            Sunday morning was spent nursing Gabriel’s hangover and apologizing to their mother, until Gabriel felt well enough to drive.  Castiel watched from the living room window as he backed out of the short driveway, blowing out of their lives again for God-knew-how-long this time.  Castiel slogged down the hall to his room, locking the door behind him.  He slumped onto his bed, pulling his laptop out from under his bed, typing “Dean Winchester” and “Lawrence High School” into the search bar.  Three hours later, he’d found out all he could by Facebook-stalking Dean Winchester without sending an actual friend request or liking anything of his pictures.  He spent that afternoon and evening researching Dean, his friends, and family.  By the time he put his computer up and turned off the lamp by his bed, Castiel was deeply, hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester.

 

 

 

            “Hey biatch,” Charlie sing-songed as she slammed her slight body into her locker, right next to Castiel’s.  “You get the Econ homework done?” she asked as she spun the combination on her locker.

 

            “Yeah,” Castiel answered distractedly.  “Charlie, do you know a senior named Dean Winchester?”

 

            “Uh, yeah?” Charlie shut her locker and laced her arm through Castiel’s, bulling her way through the writhing throng of students in the hallway.  “Dean ‘Winning at Life’ Winchester? Everyone knows him.  He’s in my AP Calculus class.  He acts totally different when his jock friends aren’t around, I know that much.  Doesn’t talk in class except to answer questions, does well on tests, that kind of thing.  I think I heard him telling Kevin Tran he was applying to KU for Engineering or something.”  Charlie finally turned around to glance at Castiel, who had crowded up against her to hear every word. “Why?”

 

            “I met him at a party Saturday,” Castiel answered, eyes scanning the hallway they’d just entered.  Student paintings lined the walls and strange-looking papier-mâché birds hung from the ceiling tiles.  The senior hallway was also the Art hallway and home to Castiel and Charlie’s first period class.  He was still surprised he’d never seen Dean down here, he’d taken at least two art classes every semester since freshman year, but of course, Dean had only had a locker down here since this year. 

 

            “You went to a party?” Charlie was blocking the door to Sculpture II, her arms crossed over her chest.  “And you didn’t think to call me?”

 

            “Gabriel came home,” Charlie’s face softened somewhat at the mention of Castiel’s deadbeat brother, the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure and source of constant disappointment.  “He made me go with him.” Charlie took Castiel’s arm again and led him to their table. “He dressed me up like Luke,” he muttered.  Luke had been two years older than Gabriel, four years younger than Michael. 

 

            “He misses him, Castiel, you can’t get angry at him for that,’ Charlie said softly.

 

            “Yes, I can,” Castiel mumbled as their teacher started talking about the progress of their latest projects.  Mike was his oldest brother, an almost legendary figure in the Novak household.  Mike had been eighteen the year Castiel surprised their mother, who had been too busy dealing with the loss of their father to notice she was pregnant.  Michael left for college before Castiel could walk and hadn’t looked back since.  Castiel could count on one hand the number of times Mike had come home for holidays or birthdays.  Luke had taken it especially hard, losing their father and his older brother in the space of a few months. Four years later, chronic depression had driven him to suicide.  He hadn’t even left a note.  Gabriel found him hanging in the garage.  Gabriel had been seventeen, Castiel almost five.  Castiel wished Gabriel missed him as much as he missed Luke, but no one in his whole life thought that much of him.  His mother had been much older when she had him, what his Aunt Amara called a ‘change of life baby’ and had always been distant, leaving him to Gabriel to raise.  Gabriel had escaped Lawrence as soon as he graduated, leaving a seven-year old Castiel to wonder the suddenly quiet hallways of their house like a ghost.  He’d never made friends with people his own age.  Except for Charlie, he wasn’t sure anyone would notice if he disappeared off the face of the planet. 

 

            _Dean might notice_ , something whispered in his head.  But he wouldn’t be _bothered_ by it Casiel thought.  He didn’t feel for Castiel what Castiel already felt for him.  Just the memory of the few small smiles he’d cast Castiel’s way, his freckles and long, tawny eye lashes, his clear bottle-green eyes, was enough to have Castiel’s heart beating hard and fast.  And he wasn’t just a pretty face.  The things Castiel had discovered online Sunday had cemented his initial reaction to the older boy.  Eighteen last May, the perfect Gemini to Castiel’s Aries, his father had died in a car accident when Dean was fourteen, leaving his mother to raise him and his ten-year old brother, Sam.  Dean had worked odd jobs until he found a steady job at a family friend’s garage, to help his mother.  Between caring for his brother, running a household while his mother worked double shifts at one of the area hospitals, and working part-time, Dean had somehow managed to keep his grades up and Letter in wrestling for the last three years.  Everything about the young man was amazing.  Smart, beautiful, caring, popular; how could someone like that ever give a shit about someone like Castiel?

 

            Castiel caught his first glimpse of Dean as Sculpture let out and he and Charlie left to go to Econ.  He was standing across from the boy’s bathroom, surrounded by friends and laughing, his head thrown back, exposing the perfect creamy expanse of his neck.  Castiel and Charlie walked by in, what seemed to Castiel, slow motion.  Dean’s eyes caught and held Castiel’s.  He raised a hand in greeting, a broad smile on his face.  Castiel was too shocked to wave back, just staring as Charlie dragged him down the hall.  Ducking into Econ, Castiel convinced himself Dean had been waving at someone else.  There was just no way he’d even recognized Castiel in his dark slacks, dress shirt, and blue waistcoat.  He had worn his glasses to school, like he always did.  The contacts he’d worn to the party were just too uncomfortable to have in for eight hours.  No, Dean had definitely not noticed him. 

 

            For someone Casriel hadn’t ever even known existed before Saturday, Dean seemed to be everywhere Monday.  The other four times he saw Dean that day went much the same way, with one notable exception: he didn’t try to wave at Castiel again, confirming his earlier theory.  By the time he was bouncing slightly in the bus seat on the way home, Castiel was beyond distraught.  He just couldn’t understand why he’d been given a taste of paradise, only to have it ripped so cruelly away.  The injustice of it all was scathing, eating away at his soul.  He’d never done anything bad, but horrible things kept happening to him.  Losing a father he had no memory of, his cold mother treating him like an inconvenient piece of furniture, Luke’s death, Gabriel’s abandonment, why couldn’t he have this one thing?  For a brief, shining moment, he’d been _seen_ , he’d been _adored_ , by someone almost too perfect to be true.

 

            Unlocking the front door, Castiel paused.  The sound of the television meant his mother was home, but she hadn’t even bothered to unlock the door for him.  Castile made his decision before he pushed the door open.  He stalked to his room, tossing his backpack on his bed and threw open his closet door.  Instead of doing homework or grabbing a snack, Castiel spent the next three hours sitting on the floor of his closet, flipping through his painstakingly-acquired books and every note he’d ever taken during his aunt’s monthly visits.  When he came up with nothing, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

 

            “Castiel,” Amara purred, “My sweetling, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected contact?”

 

            Just the sound of her voice bolstered Castiel’s confidence in his decision, “I need your help, Auntie.  I need to cast a spell and I can’t do it alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna go write the next chapter, Dean's POV, since I'm not going to be able to sleep until I do.


End file.
